Reversal of Fortune
by Lala Kate
Summary: An unexpected turn of events forces Robin and Regina to examine where they are under a new light. Set during the missing year.
1. Chapter 1

_Inspired by an OQ/EC mash-up prompt I received on tumblr. Set during the missing year. I do hope you enjoy it!_

* * *

He hears her through the stone wall, retching into the chamber pot until she can heave no longer. It's the third time this has happened during the two weeks they've been together, and he knows he cannot ignore the obvious any longer. The first morning she'd been ill, he'd gone to her, but she'd sent him away, assuring him that the venison served at dinner the previous evening had disagreed with her stomach. He'd done as she'd bidden, returning to her bed with measured steps after pouring her some water and making certain she was alright. She'd vomited once more before making her way back into the bedroom, and he'd held her close to his heart after she'd climbed back into bed, stroking her hair as she wrapped her arms around his torso.

He'd nearly slept through the second occurrence—just two days ago, he remembers, and he'd said nothing after she'd crawled back under the covers beside him, allowing him to pull her chilled body into his warmth.

"I'd forgotten how rich the food was in this realm," she'd uttered as he stroked her bare back, concerned with the clammy texture of her skin. He'd kissed her forehead and whispered that she should rest, reminding her of how tired she'd felt the previous day, of how little she'd been able to eat over the course of the week. Heavy eyes had gazed back at him—questioning, searching, then she'd kissed him with abandon, the taste of salt on her lips unmistakable, remnants of tears she was struggling to keep hidden leaving a residue on his tongue.

It was then the first doubts had formed. Now they are practically eating him alive.

He moves to the edge of the bed and reaches for his trousers, drawing them about his waist as he makes his way into the small adjoining room where she has been heaving for the past five minutes. He has no idea what to say, how to address the looming issue between them, one that will only grow larger as the weeks continue to pass, but he knows it must be done. He pauses to inhale, to clear his mind, to stop his hands from shaking and to quell the burning in his chest.

He's not certain if he's more angry or hurt.

That is until he sees her, naked on the floor, knees drawn into her chest, head buried in her arms, sobs shaking her body. He's on the floor beside her within seconds—pulling her into his chest, black hair matted against her face and shoulders, her body devoid of warmth.

"I'm sorry, Robin."

The words chafe his skin as tears soak his shoulder, but he barely notices as he unconsciously rocks her in his arms, trying to make sense of circumstances his mind refuses to accept.

"Shhh," he breathes, not ready for what he knows is about to happen. Her breath comes in pants against his neck, her fingers so cold they sting his skin.

"You know, don't you?"

He pauses then, leaning back just far enough to look into her eyes.

"Yes," he admits, his own voice now on the verge of breaking. "I recognize the signs."

Her gaze drops as she nods, wiping her nose before it drips onto his arm.

"It.,.it happened before," she utters, refusing to look at him. "Before we—"

She coughs, making him fear she may vomit again. He strokes her hair without thinking, waiting until her body relaxes a measure into his own.

"Before we were together."

He hears himself finishing her thought as she nods, her hair rubbing his chest in confirmation. It's then he realizes just how cold she is, and he releases his hold on her long enough to stand. Her despondent gaze cuts through muscle and bone, and he rushes in his quest to warm her, returning from the bedroom with a heavy fur to wrap around her frame. She looks frighteningly fragile sitting on the floor as she is, and he engulfs her in his warmth, craving color in her cheeks and life in her eyes.

"You don't have to stay, you know."

Tension floods the air between them, and he looks down at the stone floor, fighting tears of his own.

"And yet I'm here."

She exhales and tries to smile, a pitiful, small quiver of her lips he's never before witnessed. She's completely broken, and it slices into him even though he knows he has every right to walk away and never look back. But he won't. Somehow, he can't.

"Do you love him?"

Her expression answers him before she even opens her mouth.

"Not like that," she answers, tugging the fur tighter around her body. "What happened…it was a mistake."

He releases a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, feeling cold stone press through the material of his pants.

"Does he know?"

"God, no," she utters, licking her lips. "And he can't. Ever."

His head is swimming in time with his stomach, her words swirling around him until he feels dizzy.

"Forgive me, Regina, but a man has a right to know that he's going to be a father."

"He's already a father," she admits, her eyes meeting his directly. "And he's married. Happily married." She's stopped crying though her nose still runs, and she sniffs as his arm snakes around her, his mind scurrying in ten different directions at once. "I told you, it only happened once, and we both regretted it immediately."

He hears her swallow, stroking her thumb in a repetitive motion as she tries to formulate the right words.

"If he knew, it would hurt so many people. It would destroy more than his marriage."

A sickening realization grips him.

"David."

The name drops from his lips before he can stop it, and her face whips around as if she's been smacked.

"How did you know?"

"I guessed."

He fights back the urge to be sick.

"I found him one day," she states, her words nearly lost to the dull roar in his head. "In the forest. He was missing Emma, we were both missing Henry, both convinced we'd never see our children again." He pulls her closer as her body begins to shake. "We were just talking, trying to keep it together when…"

Sobs grip her again, and he'll be damned if he's going to let her cry alone this time. He brings her into his body, allowing tears to fall into her hair, releasing his own hurt, absorbing hers. He tries to beat down images conjured up by her words, images of two broken people reaching out to each other in the most basic of ways, seeking physical comfort from overwhelming emotional trauma.

She clears her throat once they've cried it out, and he stands to fetch her a glass of water, handing it to her with a renewed sense of gentleness.

"He loves Snow, Robin. They're having a baby, for God's sake."

"So are you."

She accepts the mug from his hands with trembling fingers, and he reaches out to steady them, watching as her lips press together until they're nearly white.

"I shouldn't be," she finally mutters, looking flustered as he returns to his spot beside her. "I took a potion- a long time ago. One that made it impossible for me to conceive a child."

He leans back in surprise, the way she is with Roland and the obvious love she has for her son warring with the confession he's just heard.

"My mother…I wouldn't let her do to another child what she'd done to me."

He touches her cheek, the contact making him ache all over. He can't begin to fathom the pain she has suffered over the course of her life, so much of it inflicted by the very people who should have shielded her. It's then he knows he won't let her bear this alone.

"What are you going to do?"

She chuckles, her tone the texture of withered leaves.

"I have no idea."

The look of utter defeat in her eyes frightens him. He's never seen her like this.

"You can't leave," he states, voicing the fear beginning to gnaw at his insides.

"I can't stay. What happens when I start to show in a few weeks?"

"What happens when that witch finds out you're alone out there?"

Her entire body sags, what fight she had left seeping into the cold stones beneath them.

"I can't…"

Her face contorts, and he winces at what he knows she's thinking.

"No," he interjects, cupping her face with his palms. "This is your baby, too, Regina. You're allowed to love him and to give him life."

Her tear is hot against his thumb, and he wants to take her far away from here—from this castle, from this kingdom, from two people she holds close whose fate now grows in her womb.

"Let me be the father."

He feels each word pass over his tongue, burning as they slide out of his lips. She sits up straighter then, her eyes widening until they will open no further.

"People already suspect we're together if they don't know outright," he continues, his mouth moving independent of thought. "I've been sleeping in your chambers openly for two weeks now, so it follows that everyone will assume that this baby is mine."

His heart is racing at breakneck speed, the room unsteady beneath them. Her lips move without speech, her blinking rapid, her breath coming in puffs.

"Everyone but David."

"Will he really want to know?"

She pauses before slowly shaking her head.

"Why? Why would you do this, Robin?"

 _Because I love you. Because for some reason I feel more alive when I'm with you than I can ever remember feeling_. _Because you're a part of me now, a vital part, even though we've only been a part of each other's lives for a matter of months._

 _Because I'd rather walk into the middle of this mess beside you than live a less complicated existence alone._

"Because I care about you, Regina," he manages, tears once again pooling in his eyes. "You don't have to do this alone."

Her spine relaxes somewhat as she takes another sip of water, her eyes closing as she swallows.

"Could you really raise another man's child as your own?"

He ponders the words, letting them scour his soul as he considers her question.

"If you allow me to raise this child with you, believe me, Regina, he will be mine in every sense of the word."

He pauses, watching something play out across her face that he can't quite translate.

"Just as Roland is mine," he continues, his resolve strengthening as he speaks. "Just as Henry is yours. With my claim will also come my love, my name and my promise to do the best that I possibly can by both this baby and his mother."

He's trembling now, and she reaches out to stroke his cheek.

"But why would you choose this?" she questions, leaning in so close he can smell the rosewater in her hair. "Why, when you could have a life with practically any woman of your choice? Why take on the evil queen and her unplanned child by Prince Charming?"

"Because I choose you, Regina. And everything that comes with choosing you."

She leans back against the wall then, allowing her head to rest on hard stone, her chest rising and falling in an arrhythmic tattoo. He moves a breath closer, reaching out to touch her hair, absorbing its texture into himself as he stares back at her. No one has ever chosen her, he realizes. She's been a pawn, a means to an end, a token passed from one person to the other until she'd finally fired back at the world with everything she'd had.

"You don't have to give me an answer now. Take some time, think it over."

Her eyes mist over as her bottom lip begins to quiver.

"You'd really do this?"

He reaches into the gap of the thick fur, his hand finding her stomach, his palm cupping new life.

"We'll do this together."

Her head drops to his shoulder as she nods into his skin.

He gathers her up to his chest, standing cautiously, bearing precious cargo in his arms as he makes his way back to her bed. He lays her down with as much care as he can muster, stroking her forehead before sliding in beside her, the scent of their lovemaking covering him far better than any quilt. Her head rests on his chest now, her breathing steady and warm as her limbs finally lose their chill.

"Sleep, Regina," he bids her, his fingers stroking her hair until she's boneless against him. Her tears give way to steady breaths, her lips finally parting in sleep. He looks down at her then, at this woman in his arms, and he wonders if they have been destined for this from the start—the circumstances of their meeting, the timing of their first kiss, the fact that he is in her life at this critical juncture when she needs him in a manner neither of them could have predicted.

He then realizes he doesn't care one way or the other about the workings of fate. He just loves her.

"I've got you, Regina," he breathes into her hair before allowing his own eyes to drift shut and sleep to wash over him in soft waves. "I've got you both."

.


	2. Chapter 2

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

Robin watches as Regina stares at herself in the mirror, turning to view her body from all angles, her hands moving to her stomach, softly caressing what is still flat but won't remain so for much longer. She freezes to gaze back at him through the looking glass, her expression as uncertain as he's ever seen it.

"I am," he answers, moving in closer and wrapping his arms around her from behind. "But we'll wait if you're not."

Her head drops before she turns in his arms, and they stand nose to nose.

"I just don't want you to come to resent me," she states, her eyes fixing themselves on his tunic, her fingers toying with the fabric in a nervous manner. "Marriage is a big step, Robin, and I don't want you to feel pressured to do this because you think I can't take care of myself." She pauses, quirking a brow in a manner that reminds him exactly who he's about to take on as his wife. "I especially don't want your pity."

One hand moves to her front and settles on her middle while the other tips her chin up to look him in the eye.

"I hardly pity you, Regina," he states with emphasis. "And I know from experience you can take care of yourself. But that doesn't mean that you should have to all the time." He sees the slight quiver in her chin, and it nearly undoes him from the inside out. He wonders if anyone has ever truly taken care of her, or if she's been fighting her own battles since she was a girl. That will all change now, he promises himself. He'll see to it that she knows he is fully in her corner, that she has at least one person in this world for who will always choose her first. "Besides, this was my idea, if you remember. I'm the one who proposed to you."

"Because I was crying on the bathroom floor," she mutters, her tone so low it's barely audible. It's still somewhat startling to see her like this, the imposing and collected so-called Evil Queen now so vulnerable and hesitant, a woman treading fragile ground, knowing that one misstep could bring about disaster for far too many people. He'd be damned if he'd let her walk that road by herself, not when he can travel it with her.

"Because I wanted to ask you," he amends. "How could I resent the woman I've chosen to marry or the child we're going to raise together?" He hears her swallow.

"All too easily, if you stop and think about how…"

"I know how babies are made," he interrupts, feeling her step back just slightly. "And I know that what happened between you and David was something neither of you ever plan on repeating." She makes a noise that sounds like a cross between a laugh and a grunt, her body giving just enough for him to draw her back into his chest. "The real question is, are you sure about this? About us? About marrying me?"

His pulse pounds in his ears, and he knows what he wants her to say, what he thinks is best for both of them—for all of them. But she's immobile in his arms as she inhales deeply, and he will not push her, not when he knows she already feels so out of control of her own life.

The opaque and luminous quality of her eyes when she finally looks back hits him squarely in the gut.

"I am," she breathes. He releases what feels like a day's worth of air.

"Thank the gods," he utters, eliciting the first smile he's seen from her this morning. "I'd hate to have to tell Roland you'd changed your mind."

Everything about her softens at the mention of his son.

"He's really all right with this? With the two of us getting married?"

"You saw his face when we told him," Robin returns with a broad grin. "How he practically announced it to the entire kingdom before we told him we were keeping it a secret for the time being."

She bites her lower lip, tugging an errant strand of dark hair behind one ear. He thinks that she's never looked more beautiful to him than she does now, draped in burgundy, her up-do soft enough to allow a few strands to fall free and frame her face, her breasts a bit fuller than they'd been when they first met, the natural outcome of her body preparing itself to welcome new life into the world.

Her lines are softer somehow, and he tips her chin up a bit more so he can kiss her, welcoming the warmth that is Regina into his mouth. In just a few hours, he'll both claim and assume responsibility for the life growing inside of her, a life he didn't help create but will raise and love alongside her until his dying breath.

He only prays he doesn't do or say something to Charming that will make him suspicious of the truth. The man watches Regina too closely sometimes, and it annoys the hell out of Robin. It's the gaze of a guilty man, of one who has difficulty living with the knowledge of his sin, of one who needs to confess but doesn't dare.

For all of their sakes, Robin prays he never does.

They tread quietly through the corridors of the castle, the halls still hushed and unmoving in the lingering moments of pre-dawn. His hand settles on the small of her back, and she stays right in tempo beside him, her way of letting him know that his touch is welcome. They wind their way down the staircase, the murky darkness finally punctured by a yellow glow breaking through at the bottom.

Robin's stomach growls as if on cue, making Regina chuckle.

"I hope you get that under control before the ceremony," she quips, pausing in the doorframe to claim one last moment of privacy. "We may be getting married in the forest, but that doesn't mean I want you acting like a backwoodsman."

He chuckles, pulling her into his chest before planting a soft, lingering kiss on her mouth.

"Admit it," he grins, drawing back just enough to watch her expression. "You have a weakness for men of the earth."

He's said something wrong-he sees it immediately as the light in her eyes dims and her gaze drops to the floor. He wonders if he'd overstepped some invisible boundary, if even referring to Daniel is something he shouldn't presume to do at this stage in their relationship. Then her hand reaches towards his cheek, tracing feather-light strokes that memorize and almost tickle across his beard and skin, until they don't, until her grip increases in strength and intensity.

"My mother taught me that love is weakness."

Her tone is deep yet void, taking on an almost rehearsed quality.

"Do you believe that?"

His question seems to baffle her. She stares at him, and he wonders if she somehow didn't hear what he'd asked or if she'd simply rather not answer.

"Honestly, I don't know anymore." This time there is no edge to her voice. "If you don't allow yourself to love, you can't get hurt."

"That's a lie," he contradicts. "Everyone gets hurt, Regina, even the coldest and most unfeeling of mortals."

The shake of her head is nearly imperceptible.

"But love makes the pain permanent. Love allows it to mark you for the rest of your life."

He inhales as he twistswinds a stray lock around his finger, marvelling at the rich, black color, wishing that for one second, she could see herself as he sees her.

"Possibly. But you also miss out on living." He stops, swallowing hard, remembering another wedding ceremony in the woods, one officiated by the same man who would marry them today, one that gave him the child probably waiting for him eagerly just a few footfalls away. "No matter how badly it hurt to lose Marian, no matter how many mornings I awoke praying that I could just die, I wouldn't give up what I had with her, what we shared during the time we had, the son we created, the life we lived. I wouldn't choose to love her any less knowing what I do now, that I'd lose her shortly after Roland was born." He cleared his throat, seeking words he isn't certain are wise to voice. "Would you give up the time you had with Henry? Or Daniel? Even if you knew that they'd be lost to you one day?"

Her mouth opens then closes again as tears fill her eyes.

"No," she returns, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I wouldn't."

Her hands are cool to his touch, and he draws them to his chest, absorbing their trembling into muscle and bone.

"You're far stronger than you think you are, Regina," he states. "Your love for your son makes you so."

She nods, unable to speak, her hands twisting into his tunic in a nervous gesture. She's preparing herself, he notes, steadying herself while still grieving the loss of one child to prepare for the arrival of another, one child chosen, sought after then given away to spare his life, the other an unexpected byproduct of a thoughtless act of grief.

"As does your love for the babe you carry inside of you."

Her gaze finds his immediately, his words striking an invisible chord. Her breathing slows somewhat as one hand settles upon her stomach, recognizing the very impetus that has brought them to this point.

"I do love this baby."

The words leave her in a near rush. Her eyes remain fixed on his, and he lowers his head towards hers, kissing her forehead, cradling her heart.

"As you should." She smiles then, and their fingers intertwine, hovering over life too small yet to be noticed but there, nonetheless. "You're a mother, you're this baby's mother, and he's lucky to be growing inside of you."

She remains immobile, her fingers tracing circles around her navel.

"It could be a girl, you know."

He brings her hand to his lips, kissing chilled knuckles that smell of lavender and sage before he leans in to speak.

"I've always wanted a daughter."

She gazes back at him for a heartbeat before wrapping her arms around his middle and burying her face into his chest. He holds her as he feels her relax into him, continuing to stroke the back of her neck, hoping she understands that he'll never leave her.

"Are you ready?"

She nods and then draws back, taking his hand within her own.

"Let's go. Let's do this."

He doesn't need to be told twice.

The kitchen's warmth provides a lovely early-morning welcome, the scent of freshly baked bread drawing them further inside. He squints and blinks repeatedly, the light almost overpowering after being in the enclosed staircase for longer than they'd anticipated.

"For you," Granny states, handing Regina a piece of wheatberry toast. "I'd eat it before we start walking if I were you-while it's still warm."

"Thank you," Regina answers. He watches as she takes a small bite, encouraged at how her face relaxes as she chews the bread. It's the one thing they've found that actually helps settle her stomach whenever nausea strikes.

"There's more in the basket," Granny continues, tossing a look his way. "The bread in there is still warm, and there's some lemon-ginger marmalade that should help with the morning sickness, too."

The older woman's attention takes Regina aback, but Robin gives her a nod of thanks, smiling as Granny covertly presses a pastry of sorts into his son's hand as Roland makes a beeline for Regina. The boy hugs her so tightly that Robin fears his confection will stain his fiancée's dress. But she hugs him back just as fiercely, bending down to kiss his forehead with attention his son absorbs with the thirst of parched earth.

"So today you'll be my mama?"

She nods as tears once again flood her eyes.

"Yeah!" the boy cries, his smile larger than Robin ever remembers seeing it. "I've always wanted a mama."

"I'll do my best, Roland," she manages as she kneels down and pulls Roland into her chest. She sways as she stands upright, and Robin grips her around the waist, watching in concern as her hand hovers over her abdomen.

"We're fine," she whispers. "Just a little woozy this morning."

"That's to be expected," Granny says as she motions towards the doorway. "We'd better get going."

Roland takes Regina's hand as they move to leave the castle walls, and Robin catches Little John's eye, his friend's expression one of support laced with misgivings. The man believes the baby is Robin's, and he understands his companion's desire to marry the mother of his unborn child, even if he still has his reservations about their hasty union. But with a nod of Robin's head, the small party sets off, bracing themselves for a brisk walk into the forest, watchful for hostile onlookers.

They remain close to the castle grounds, all of them fully aware of the threat the Wicked Witch continues to pose. Their footfalls are light, their destination fixed, and they find Friar Tuck awaiting them at the appointed tree just as planned. They're surrounded by Merry Men who remain strategically unseen, protecting their leader and his family in a gesture of loyalty that means the world to Robin, especially on a day like today.

Regina stops beside him, her breath crystallizing in the morning's chill.

"So here we are."

She squeezes his hand at his words, nodding as her gaze remains fixed on the friar.

"Here we are," she echoes, unable to keep from smiling as Roland begins jumping up and down in his excitement. "Your last chance to back out, thief."

There's no malice in her words, but her fear is unmistakable, no matter how stealthily she may try to disguise it.

"And why would I do that? I'm gaining a beautiful wife and a new baby, as well as a mother for my son. It seems as though I'm getting the far better end of this bargain."

He senses her smile and feels her body lean slightly into his own.

"We both know it's more than that, Robin."

He pauses before looking her in the eye.

"That still doesn't lessen the truth of it."

Her gaze drops to the boy at her side.

"I'll love Roland as my own, you know."

His arm slides around her as he leads them towards the makeshift altar.

"I do," he utters into her ear. "Just as I shall love the child you carry." Her eyes fix on his, widening before relaxing into an expression more peaceful than any he's ever seen on her face.

Vows are spoken, blessings bestowed and charges given, and finally their wrists are bound by a thick scarlet cord. Roland's hand is placed on top of theirs as both of their free hands move to rest on the boy's shoulders. This is his family now - his wife, his son, his child-to-be, a new life he'd never expected, forged here in the forest where he'd grieved and prayed for death. The cord is removed, and he moves in to kiss his bride, finding her lips chilled but welcoming, melting in the honest beauty of her smile.

She looks younger, somehow, as if the worries back at the castle can't touch them here. She scoops up Roland and holds him against her chest, shooing away Robin's concerns with a flick of her eyebrow.

"I'm his mama, now," she insists, making Roland beam back at her as if she's just given him the moon. "Being pregnant doesn't mean I can't pick up my son."

He refuses to argue with her as they make their way back the way they came, knowing that when it comes to his new wife, some arguments are futile. But he is relieved when Roland slides down and races ahead, laughing as Little John scoops up the boy and sets him giggling atop his shoulders.

"Not a word," she says, the challenge in her tone unmistakable.

"Fine," he returns. "Just don't blame me when your back starts to ache around lunch time."

They walk hand in hand the rest of the way, bolstering each other somehow, both of them understanding that they will face questions and scrutiny the moment their morning activities have been discovered. It will be assumed that an unplanned pregnancy set this wedding in motion, that the traditional sequence of events was simply turned on its head. He has no problem with this, welcomes such ideas, actually, will foster and feed them if needed. They both are very much aware that the babe Regina carries could have been created by their own lovemaking had conception not already occurred before the two of them had ever done the deed.

She pauses just as they reach the castle gates, and he stands with her as she breathes in and out, fully aware of what person she most dreads seeing. He's the only one who would ever suspect that the explanation of their secret nuptials is false, the only one who could calculate weeks and arrive at the conclusion that could devastate them all.

"I've got you," Robin whispers, giving her fingers a reassuring squeeze.

"It's not you I'm worried about," she returns. She straightens her spine and leads them inside, the last of their party to move into what should feel like a safe haven.

Things are far livelier within the castle than when they left, as they're met with smells of sausages, bacon, bread and fried eggs. Regina stops and braces herself against him, and he lets her bury her head into his tunic, praying she'll be able to stave off out-and-out nausea.

"There's something to be said for the smell of forest," he teases.

"Perhaps," she mutters, drawing back just far enough to look at him fully. "But not for men who choose to bathe in the river."

He chuckles and cups her chin in his hand, leaning in for a light kiss. Her lips are still cool, yet her mouth is warm. She tastes of ginger, lemon and fresh baked bread, and he pulls her closer, unable to keep himself from sliding his tongue deeper into her mouth. Her humm tickles his teeth and palate, and he wonders at the lightness in his chest, thanking whatever fates brought them together, regardless of their present circumstances.

"Regina! There you are."

The voice finds them out of nowhere, Robin feels Regina stiffen in his arms.

"I've been worried sick," Snow says, allowing her hand to rest on her rounded stomach as she attempts to catch her breath. "No one could find you this morning, and I was afraid…" She pauses, taking one step closer, completely unaware of the discomfort she brings with her. "I was afraid Zelena had gotten to you."

Robin scans the space, knowing that if Snow is here that her husband cannot be far behind. There-Robin spots him standing just inside the doorframe, his body rigid, his eyes taking in the tableau playing out with what can only be described as trepidation. David catches Robin's eye and begins to walk towards them.

Shit. He and Regina had hoped they'd have at least until the afternoon before this meeting took place.

"I'm fine, Snow," Regina states, her tone more irritated than fearful. Robin feels a surge of pride over this, knowing what it's costing her to keep it together when the very people she'd like to avoid are circling around her like a pride of lions sensing fresh meat. She'll never be prey, his Regina, will never show fear even when backed into a corner, and a rush of affection washes over him that she's allowed him to see her at her most vulnerable, her most naked in every sense of the word.

Roland then dashes towards them, clasping Regina's legs as he beams up guilelessly at the Charmings.

"Guess what! We got married!" the boy cries, practically bouncing off the ground in his excitement. "I have a new mama now."

Snow's eyes round to the size of small melons, and her jaw hangs slack as she stares back at the both of them.

"You what?"

She blinks repeatedly in obvious shock, her mouth still open as if it's been frozen. Robin gazes past the startled woman to the man looming just behind her, and he forces himself to smile easily as he hugs Regina into his side.

"We were married this morning," Robin states. "Just as Roland said. I asked Regina to be my bride several days ago, and much to my amazement and joy, she said _yes_."

"But why didn't you tell us?" Snow asks after a brief pause, her face a myriad of emotions. "We would have planned a magnificent wedding for the two of you, one fit for a queen." He wonders if Regina's head is pounding, if her mouth is dry, if she wants him to step in for her or if a biting remark is hovering just over her tongue. But it's Granny who breaks the silence as she strides into their huddle, completely unconcerned about interrupting a private conversation.

"Your bread," she states drily as places the basket into Regina's grasp and takes Roland by the hand. "Why don't you come with me, young man, and I'll see to your breakfast." The boy hugs Regina yet again before happily obeying the older woman, the call of food evidently more powerful than the need to continue talking to the grown-ups. Snow eyes the basket before gazing back at Regina.

"Wheatberry bread," she murmurs. "I'd know that smell anywhere. Granny would bring some to me every morning when I was still having…" She stops then, the truth hitting her with unmistaken clarity. "Regina-oh my god. Are you pregnant?"

Robin hears a masculine intake of breath from behind Snow's shoulder. He dares a look in Charming's direction, watching as the man's eyes laser in on his speechless bride.

"Now it all makes sense," Snow continues, completely oblivious to the tension swirling around her. "The secret wedding, why you didn't wait to tell anyone. Oh, Regina-this is so exciting! Our babies can grow up together."

His mind somehow jolts back into gear, and he smiles in Snow's direction as he hugs his wife closer.

"I'm so happy for both of you," Snow manages, radiating the palpable joy he wishes the rest of them could ingest. "This is just the sort of news we all need to hear."

"It is," he states, planting a kiss on Regina's cheek, noting the flushed feel of her skin. "And we're ecstatic, although I can't say I wasn't a bit stunned when she told me."

"I'm not surprised," Snow gushes, one hand still gently clutching Regina's arm. "The two of you haven't been together all that long."

He hears Regina's swallow and shifts one arm to grip her waist tightly. But Snow reaches in and embraces her stepmother, and Robin has to release his wife as Regina returns the gesture, her arms as stiff as the legs holding her up. David stands unmoving, looking like a man facing an executioner's axe as he observes his wife hugging her stepmother.

"How far along are you?"

He feels Regina stiffen as she leans back into his chest, knowing that David has just asked the very question they both had prayed that he wouldn't.

"We're not sure, exactly," she answers, fixing her expression along with her stance. "But that's nothing you need concern yourself with, David. Robin and I will figure it out."

There's a measured silence between the two of them, one he senses but doesn't seem to register with Snow. Thank the gods, Robin thinks. The princess has done nothing but show kindness to himself, his son, his men and every other person residing within her realm. She doesn't deserve to be hurt by the news that rocked his life in more ways than one. For Robin, what happened between David and Regina was an indiscretion that took place before he'd had the balls to kiss Regina, before they'd ever become a couple, before she'd ever taken him to her bed. For Snow, their misstep would be a breach of marriage vows and the betrayal of a woman she considers family. For her, the truth would be beyond devastating.

He wonders if Regina's words have hit their mark, if her meaning has sunk in and taken root, if perhaps this is all it will take for the four of them to simply move on with their lives and marriages. But doubt still lingers in David's eyes, an unsettled question he cannot ask-not here, not in front of his wife.

"I'm tired," Regina states, prompting Robin to act on her subtle cue. "It's been a busy morning, so if you'll excuse me…"

"Of course," Snow says, taking a step back. "You need to rest. We can celebrate later."

It's then he notices that David is staring at him. The gaze isn't hostile, but neither is it congratulatory, and Robin feels the hairs on the back of his neck prickle, wondering if Charming is trying to probe his thoughts to see if he's lying about the baby. He steels his expression and nods at the man, giving him a smile as he snakes his arm around his wife. They walk away from the gathering clumps of people, both of them able to breathe more deeply once they reach the privacy of deserted halls and quite corridors.

They enter into her chambers and lean into each other once the door is shut. She's chilled, his Regina, and he won't have that, not on their wedding day, not when she's pregnant and already as nervous as a cat. He helps her out of her dress and back into her nightgown, feeling her finally ease into him as they lie back down on the bed, snuggling under thick quilts and furs to rest.

"So he knows," she states, her words carried on a weary sigh. "About the baby." She shifts until she's partially on top of him, allowing her hair to spill over and on to his chest.

"He knows _we're_ having a baby," Robin clarifies with a stroke to her cheek. "That's all he need ever know. By my word, Regina, I'll never tell him otherwise."

She smiles then, the closed-mouth smile of exhaustion, but he'll take it at this moment. His thumb traces over her mouth until her head drops to his shoulder, allowing his fingers to move to her scalp and rub until she begins to relax muscle by muscle.

By the time they emerge from their shelter in her chambers, word will have spread-of this he is certain. Everyone will know about their early morning nuptials and of Regina's pregnancy. He's glad of it, actually. It will be easier on both of them if they don't have to share the same news twenty times over. But as she leans into his body, as his fingers trace the lines of her back, as limbs merge and arms intertwine, he wishes they could simply keep the rest of the world at bay, that they could be afforded more time just to _be_ , to adjust, to learn each other as man and wife without all of the complications just waiting to pounce the moment they step outside this room.

"Thank you," she utters, her words barely discernible against his skin. He leans over her and kisses her then, fully, completely, until he's warm from loving her and holding her close. His hand cups her stomach as she stretches out and yawns, and he lets her sleep, his new bride, his son's new mother.

"No," he breathes as the sun's rays sneak past a crack in the drapes. "Thank you."


	3. Chapter 3

This council meeting is hell.

He sits, staring at his wife, noting how she subtly moves in her seat, attempting to stretch her lower back as her other hand settles over the small yet distinct roundness of her belly. She's flushed, whether from anger or those mysterious _hormones_ she continually curses he can't be certain. But as her eyes narrow in Leroy's direction, Robin thanks his lucky stars that he's not the one on the other end of that glare. Grown men could wither up and curl into a ball under less frightening circumstances.

"That is the most ridiculous idea I've ever heard," Regina states, her lips pressed together into a fine line. "What good will a patrol of munchkins do against the Wicked Witch of the West?"

"Dwarves, sister," Leroy growls, his nostrils flaring as Regina rolls her eyes. "And we're the best choice for sneaking into her castle through underground tunnels-we're used to the mines."

"You have no magic," Regina argues. "And highly questionable reasoning and fighting skills."

"We were skilled enough to keep Snow alive and away from you," Leroy throws back. "If we can handle the Evil Queen, then her big, bad, green sister should be a piece of cake."

"And they are-" Snow stops herself mid-sentence, turning herself in her chair in an obvious attempt to make herself more comfortable, the advanced state of her pregnancy making it difficult for her to do so. "The right height for the tunnels."

The chamber falls completely silent.

"Did you just call me short?"

Robin grins at Leroy's indignation as Regina lets out a bark of laughter, inciting the dwarf's agitation even further.

"If the size fits," Snow utters, Granny's outright chuckle too loud to be missed.

"I expect low blows from her majesty over there," the dwarf says. "But from you, Snow?"

"She's tired," David cuts in, moving to stand behind his wife and rub her shoulders. His words have the opposite effect than he intended as Snow turns on him with a quickness one wouldn't expect from a woman in her stage of pregnancy.

"I don't need you to make excuses for me, David," the princess states just before returning her focus to the other members of the council. "I simply made an observation. If Grumpy wants to interpret it as an insult, that's his problem."

Regina's brows quirk in her step-daughter's direction, and Robin sees the beginnings of a smirk on his wife's lips.

"Well said, Snow," Regina acknowledges, earning herself a half-smile from her step-daughter. Both women are cradling their unborn, Robin notices, each resting a hand on the life growing inside of them as if protecting their children from the very real dangers of life in the Enchanted Forest.

"This council has become a baby ward," Leroy grumbles, rising to his feet and kicking his chair. "All these emotions are screwing everything up."

"Oddly enough, neither the queen nor the princess is the one standing and spouting off nonsense," Robin interrupts, his fists clinched, his tone dangerously low. His eyes laser in on Leroy, and it's only then that he realizes he has risen to his feet, as well. He swallows as Regina's hand closes over his own, and he's startled by how cool her fingers feel against the heat of his own skin. "I believe an apology is in order to both women. Wouldn't you agree, David?"

He regrets the words the minute they slide over his lips, hates how Charming's gaze moves from him to Regina, how his eyes hover over the growing bulge of her stomach before coming back to rest on Snow.

"I do," David states. Snow relaxes somewhat at his words, her own eyes honing in on Leroy who is turning a rather dangerous shade of purple. "Pregnant or not, Snow and Regina's thoughts should never be dismissed or brushed aside."

Nails press into to Robin's arm, just enough to let him know that Regina wants no more unwelcome scrutiny from the Charming side of the table, so he sits and clears his throat as he raises a brow in Leroy's direction. The shorter man's expression tightens into thunderous proportions, and Robin swears he spots steam coming out of the dwarf's ears as he turns and storms out of the room, a muttered _I'm outta here_ lingering over the table where he'd just been standing.

"Let him go," Snow insists as David makes a move to go after him. "Leroy's a hot-head, but he has a good heart. He'll apologize when he's ready."

Every muscle in Robin's body is primed to follow the dwarf and shake an apology out of the man, but a slight moan from his wife deflates his anger instantaneously.

"Are you alright, Regina?"

It's David who asks, much to Robin's chagrin, but when he turns to look at his wife, it is to find her rubbing her temples and looking a shade too pale for comfort.

"It's just a headache," Regina utters, but that's enough for Robin, so he stands again and moves to her chair, scooting it away from the table as she rises to her feet. He marvels at how she deliberately straightens her spine and fixes her gaze, how she refuses to show any sign of weakness, even if she's not feeling well. "But I'm sick of this bickering back and forth. We can continue this discussion when the rest of you have come to your senses and not before."

"Emma's our only option, Regina. You and I both know it."

Snow's words freeze her in her tracks, and Robin watches as Regina's palm cups her stomach and out and out fear flickers across her expression.

"Zelena wants one of our babies, and we can't let her have them-either of them."

"I know," Regina utters, her face settling into a trembling semblance of confidence. "And we won't."

Robin settles his palm in the small of her back, and they take measured steps towards the exit, halted by words that make his stomach knot itself together.

"I won't let anything happen to these children," David states, his hand on Snow's shoulder, his gaze fixed on Regina. "I'll give my life to protect both of them-and their mothers."

Hot ire shoots up Robin's spinal column, making him stand absolutely erect on trembling legs. He's being unreasonable, he knows this, but he can't stand here and let Charming go on about protecting _his_ child, _his_ wife, even if he would do the same for Snow and the babe that she carries.

"Neither will I," Robin returns, his fingers fisting into Regina's dress. "By the gods, I'll destroy anyone who tries to bring harm to my family."

The men's eyes lock from across the room, something unspoken and primal hovering between them. It's only when Regina touches his bicep that Robin realizes his arms are actually shaking. The room feels hot, so he wipes his brow and steadies himself as she stares at him hard, her meaning painfully clear and sharp enough to slice through the white noise in his head.

 _Not here. Not now. Not this._

She doesn't relax until they're back in their chambers, until his heart rate has slowed, until he's settled her in bed and handed her a glass of water, until he's slipped off her shoes and begins to rub her feet, a gesture as calming for him as it is for her.

"I'm fine," she states again, her eyes closing in what he hopes is pleasure as he hones in on her left arch. "You, on the other hand…"

"You're not fine," he states, quirking a brow back at the one she tosses him. "I'm just angry at men who don't know how or when to listen. And you're a terrible liar, you know."

She sighs as she allows herself to settle back into the pillows and stretch her spine.

"I'm actually a brilliant liar," she insists. "When I want to be. And men are terrible listeners by definition."

"Did you say something?" he quips, watching her open her mouth and shut it as he pulls a reluctant grin out of her. He releases her foot long enough to slide close enough to kiss her, close enough to see the distinct lines of worry creasing in the corners of her eyes.

"She's not getting our baby, Regina," he says, languidly stroking her forehead with his thumb, convincing himself in the process of comforting her. "I give you my word."

"We can't stop her, Robin," she returns, her tone bordering on desperation. "At least not yet. I can't beat her, and she's eventually going to break through every protection spell I've conjured. And it's not just our baby in danger, its Snow's, as well."

He grins then, he can't help it, even though he knows that his timing is terrible, and she frowns back at him.

"What in God's name are you smiling about?" she questions.

"You called the baby _ours_ ," he breathes, something fluttering inside his chest as her fingers trail across his cheek into his beard. Her eyes widen as the reality of what she said takes root, and she nods wordlessly, her mouth hanging open in a way that makes her look downright adorable. Somehow the shift has happened-she's gone from thinking of this baby as David's to his, and it thrills him, makes him feel protective, unstoppable, as if he could take out Zelena and her entire legion of insipid monkeys single-handedly. His palm settles on the swell of her stomach, and he kisses where the child grows, hearing her sigh into his touch.

"You must be growing on me, thief," she mutters, and he chuckles into her stomach, allowing this newfound strand of happiness to slide over nerve and bone. She sits bolt upright then, her eyes rounding as her hand moves to her stomach.

"Is anything wrong?" he asks, watching as a smile breaks across her face. She shakes her head and guides his hand to the upper left corner of her belly, pressing it in as she holds her breath. It's then he feels it, a sensation so light it could almost be missed, but the utter amazement on his wife's face lets him know that what he feels is true.

"Did you feel that?"

He nods, words lost to him as he keeps his hand in place and sits upright beside her. There it is again, a whisper of a touch, a fleeting hello, the unmistakable signs of life dancing just below their touch.

There are tears in her eyes, and he leans over to kiss her cheek, to draw her into his chest as they rest against the headboard and stare at the hidden child they've yet to meet.

"It's really happening, isn't it?"

Her words are so soft they barely caress him, but he clasps them to his chest and nods again, pressing his lips to the pulse point just below her ear. All of his animosity towards Leroy, his unease about Charming, his fear over Zelena, they all melt away as something golden flitters against their fingers, a part of the life growing inside of her, the life he's chosen to claim and raise as his own.

That's when it hits him. Something has shifted inside of him, too.

This _is_ his baby, not David's, he thinks, regardless of who fathered him or her months ago. He'll be the one cradling and soothing this child, singing lullabies and wiping a dirty bum. It will he this child will call _Papa,_ he who will bandage bloodied knees and elbows and will attempt to piece together a heart broken into for the first time.

This baby is his just as assuredly as Roland is his, and he nearly laughs at the simplicity of it, his chest full to the point of bursting with both fatherly pride and joy. Parenting by choice is just as powerful as parenting by birth, and he wonders what has taken him so long to completely embrace this conclusion, even when his mouth had spoken these very words when he'd first held her on that cold stone floor. _His_ child. _His_ family. _His_ wife. He believes it with every fiber of his being.

May the gods help anyone who dares to say otherwise.

"It is," he breathes, holding her as close as he can, his sense of awe over what is taking place inside her womb momentarily blocking out all that waits for them outside their chamber walls. "We're really having a baby, Regina. Together."


End file.
